Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes (16 page)

Helen looked straight into
Maria’s eyes and smiled a glittering smile.

“Have you seen this month’s
Femtastic
?”

“The one with Rosa on the
cover? Yes, why?” Maria seemed puzzled at the change of topic.

“I took that shot.”

“What do you mean?”

“That photograph. Of Rosa. It’s
mine. That’s what I’m doing now, I’m a freelance photographer.”

Maria stared at her for a full
thirty seconds, the wind seeping out of her sails, as she tried to
formulate a response.

“Well, that’s great. It’s good
that you have a new focus. We did wonder what you would do now
you’re no longer working for Daniel.”

Oh Maria well done,
Helen thought.
You really are the master of the backhanded
compliment. You only needed to add that I’ve been a kept woman for
two years and your work would be complete.

Aloud, she said, “Yes I thought
about going back into the corporate world but it’s not really for
me anymore. Too superficial. Nothing to show for it. With
photography I actually create something beautiful, something that’s
all my own achievement. You know, rather than just living off the
glory of others. It’s very rewarding.”

It felt wrong to be so
deliberately mean but also it felt
good.

As she left the office building
later, Helen paused to turn and contemplate the glass and steel
structure. It had been her home, the home of her ambitions, the
birthplace of her dreams. Now it seemed a hollow shell with no
heart. Whatever happened in the future she wasn’t disappointed it
was happening away from there.

PART TWO

Love is friendship that has caught
fire

Ann Landers

Chapter
One

“Hola! Senorita? Excuse me lady, have
you lost something?”

Helen turned. Amid the noise and chaos
of the busy street she couldn’t be sure who the voice was hailing
but some instinct told her it might be her. She searched for the
source of the English voice but saw only a sea of Spaniards. Her
heart jolted as her gaze clashed against a pair of blue eyes,
glittering out of place against Mediterranean skin. She stared at
the stranger until a pain in her chest reminded her breathe. He
raised an eyebrow and smiled, causing heat to rush to Helen’s face.
She sensed the muscles in her cheeks preparing a returning smile,
until a twisting flash of colour caused her to look down. The man’s
hands grasped a wriggling teenage boy who clutched a familiar
bag.

“That’s mine!” Helen’s voice whipped
like a sail in the wind and all thought of beautiful blue eyes
evaporated. She swung her camera bag round and saw the back pocket
open, the flash and memory-card bag missing.

“You need to be more careful.” The man
took the cloth bag from the teenager and released his grip. The lad
gave an impish wink and disappeared into the crowed.

“Aren’t you going to call the cops?”
Helen glared into the blue eyes and bristled as they crinkled in
amusement. Her gaze swept down, noting his tailored suit, his air
of confidence.
Great, another business wanker unwilling to get
his hands dirty.

“He tried to rob me. Do something.” She
felt her face grow hot and took several ragged breaths.

The man grinned as he handed the cloth
bag back to her, dangling it in front of her so she had to reach
for it.

“I'm afraid if you leave your wares on
display like that-” His face made clear the double entendre was
intentional, “Then you're fair game along here. This is
Las
Rambles,
sweetheart; pickpocket’s paradise. You should wear
your valuables in front.”

He looked her over again and his
expression altered as he realised why her camera bag was slung
round her back.

“Oh, well, if you're already carrying
valuables there you need to have a rethink.” His voice lost some of
its harshness. “You'll figure it out.” He shrugged, gave a wink in
farewell, then he followed the thief into the crowd.

Helen stood motionless, her heart
pounding. She hugged her camera to her chest and looked left and
right, expecting thieves from every direction. Her head and feet
throbbed, competing for her attention.
I need to sit down. But
first I need to pee.
She ducked into a café, ordered a cold
drink in phrase-book Spanish and then asked for directions to the
ladies.

Valuables
, she thought bitterly,
as she sat sipping lemonade.
If only all men thought that
way.
Resting her swollen ankles on her camera bag Helen let out
a sigh. It had been weeks since her showdown with Daniel, but the
pain was still fresh. And if she allowed herself time to think, she
missed him like a lost limb. Luckily, in the two months since
finding out she was carrying twins, Helen hadn’t found much time
for thinking. Her days were spent chasing down jobs, trying to earn
enough to pay the mortgage and put some aside to buy everything she
needed for the twins.

Who knew babies were so expensive?
Or needed so much?
Cribs, monitors, clothes, bedding,
pushchair, high chairs. The list was endless.

Refreshed by the lemonade Helen sat
back in her chair and gazed at the other customers in the café. It
was nice to stop, even if it did allow the thoughts to crowd back
into her tired brain. She pictured in her mind the heap of baby
things slowly taking over her tiny apartment.

Like Vivienne in Pretty Woman
,
Helen thought ruefully,
I found shopping wasn’t as much fun as I
thought it would be
.

Sharni had accompanied her shopping a
couple of times but the need to watch every penny took the fun out
of the trips. Despite wanting the best for her little ones Helen
was forced to grab second-hand bargains where she could. It irked
her. Daniel’s babies should have the best of everything; he could
afford it. Still, she would never ask him for money. He had given
up his right to be the twins’ father and that was fine with
her.

However hard it is to stick to that
decision. Instead of spending my meagre savings on staying in a
seedy hotel in Barcelona, I could be at home with my feet up.
That’s assuming Daniel would part with a penny of course. I’d
probably have to drag him through the courts. No thanks.

Helen watched the bubbles rising in her
drink.
I hope I made the right decision taking this
assignment.
She’d managed to secure a brief from a publications
house to take pictures of the La Merce festival. They had promised
four figures for the right set of shots and it was too good an
opportunity to pass up.
Assuming I can take the right shots. If
they don’t pay me I’ll have used all my savings for nothing. I
suppose it has got me out of London.

Ever since she had heard from Maria
that Daniel was with someone new Helen had walked about on
egg-shells. So far she hadn’t bumped into him, although she’d seen
a couple of his colleagues. They hadn’t recognised her or, if they
had, they’d pretended not to. She guessed she was probably
persona non grata
to them.
I wonder what Daniel told
people. That I ran off with the petty cash probably. Who cares? I
won’t be going back to the City, whatever happens.

Working as a freelance photographer was
a world away from being an executive assistant. The office life
seemed unreal now, like a game she had tried to play once but had
found didn’t have the skill for.

If I do ever fall in love again it
certainly won’t be with some sharp-suited businessman, like the one
who just let that damn pickpocket escape.

Finishing up her drink Helen checked
that everything was safely stowed in her bag and then headed back
out into the Spanish sun.

Chapter
Two

Helen stared up at the giant fish
dominating the skyline. She’d seen it in pictures before but hadn’t
realised how imposing it was. Up close on an uncluttered and empty
beach it appeared incongruous and graceful, like finding a dinosaur
in the park. She looked over at the nearby Hotel Arts and wished
she could take pictures from inside the complex, with the sea as a
backdrop. It wasn’t lost on her that, had she been here with
Daniel, he would probably have chosen to stay at the Hotel
Arts.

“He always did need to have the best of
everything,” she muttered aloud, hunkering down on her heels to
snap the fish from a different angle with the cerulean sky behind.
While her mind was processing f-stops and shutter speeds part of
her consciousness was absorbed with memories, leaving a taste in
her mouth as rancid as seawater.

“Damn,” she uttered, realising her
absorption in her photography had caused her to ignore a subtle
call of nature that was now strident and impossible to disregard.
She scanned the beach but it was early still. She’d come for the
morning light and many of the cafés weren’t yet open. She pored
over the town map but the nearest facilities were too far to walk
in her current urgency.

“I wonder if I could sneak in the
hotel,” she mused aloud, looking up at the dominant, intimidating
sky scraper. Even though she’d stayed in similar five star
complexes in the past, that life was gone now.

“I doubt you could sneak anywhere,” a
deep voice behind her announced, making her jump and nearly causing
her to drop her camera.

Helen span round and was about to shout
at the man for startling her when her gaze jarred against a
familiar pair of blue eyes.

“You again!” she declared, then flushed
as she realised how rude it sounded.

Her unlikely knight-in-suited-armour
from the evening before looked shocked by her spirited response and
it was clear he didn’t recognise her. She had twisted her heavy
copper hair up off her neck in preparation for a warm day and the
black trouser suit of the previous evening had been replaced with a
loose sea-green summer dress that hung provocatively off her
new-found curves.

His piercing gaze looked more closely
at her face before dropping quickly to her belly and enlightenment
dawned. His face widened into a smile that Helen found, to her
irritation, was ridiculously sexy.

“Yes, gorgeous, me again. Why would you
want to sneak into the hotel? It’s nice enough I’ll grant you, but
it lacks soul.”

“Are you staying there?” Helen’s voice
could have frozen seawater.

“You have a problem with that?”

He’s not stupid then.

Helen shrugged and turned to retrieve
the rucksack she had abandoned on the sand. “It’s no business of
mine,” she said as she swung the bag over her shoulder.

“You really should take better care of
your belongings,” the man gestured at where Helen had left the bag
lying on the beach. “I thought you would have learnt that
yesterday.”

“I can’t carry it all the time because
it throws me off balance when I’m taking pictures.” Helen wondered
why she was justifying herself to this interfering, insufferable
man. Hoping he’d get the hint, she packed her camera back into the
rucksack and headed down the beach.

He took two strides and caught up with
her. “You didn’t answer my question, why do you want to sneak into
the hotel? I’ll give you a key if you like?”

Helen stopped and turned to face the
stranger, unsure what to make of him. Now she thought about it he
didn’t look like a businessman, despite the suit he’d been wearing
the day before. He’d obviously been running this morning as he was
dressed in jogging pants and a less-than-pristine t-shirt. His dark
skin was glowing, his black curls separated by sweat. He carried
himself with confidence but not the brash swagger of the boardroom
bunch that used to grace Daniel’s dinner parties. He occupied his
space quietly, in a way that made him more impressive than the
over-the-top people Daniel liked to associate with.

Stop comparing everyone and
everything to Daniel
, she admonished herself silently.

Hoping to disconcert the man, Helen
shrugged and said “I need to pee.”

Her attempt failed. He just nodded
knowingly and indicated that Helen should follow him. Unsure what
to do, but with the call of nature bellowing in her ear, she meekly
fell in step with him and walked the short way to the hotel.

“The ladies are down that way,” he said
as they entered the lobby.

Scuttling off in the direction
indicated as fast as she dared, Helen couldn’t help glancing back
to see what the man would do. She wondered if he would wait in the
lobby for her to come out; a prospect she found both embarrassing
and appealing. To her disappointment he strolled over to the lift
and pressed the call button.

The scent of fresh lilies caressed Helen
as she scurried into the wash room and sank gratefully onto the
seat.
Not like the dump I’m staying in
.
Except it’s about
the same size.
As she washed her hands, trying to get her bump
near enough to the sink to turn the tap on, Helen wondered if she
should buy some flowers on the way back to her dingy hotel
room.

Maybe a nice floral smell will
disguise the damp and disinfectant combo.
The neatly-stacked
pile of fluffy white towels welcomed her wet hands and made her
want to slip one into her rucksack to use later. Helen helped
herself to a liberal squirt of the free hand cream and stood
scrutinising her face in the mirror.

At least I don’t look like a
sleep-deprived witch anymore. All that lovely pregnancy
collagen:
there had to be some upside to this baby-carrying
lark.

She took a brush out of her bag she
tugged out her hair bobble before pulling the brush through the
tangles. She marvelled at the glossy mane that had evolved from her
normal wayward locks. Another benefit.
Apparently nature offers
some recompense for swollen ankles, oscillating hormones and a
24-hour need to pee
.